For Better or For Worse
by runningfromresponsibility
Summary: Lucy Saxon's life was never the same after she met the Master.  This story follows her life as she goes from being on top of the world to falling to pieces, written through diary entries in her point of view.  Spoilers through LotTL
1. Chapter 1

_Spoilers through LotTL as of now, rating is T for events in later chapters. Please read and review, I'd really appreciate it. I'm going to try and update chapters regularly, so it'd be great to have some support!_

March 24th, 2006

Dear Diary,

For months it's all Mr. Hall has been talking about, and now it's finally here, Harold Saxon's autobiography publication, _Kiss Me Kill Me_. I was not looking forward to this today, and when I woke up and put the covers over my ears to block out the blaring of my alarm clock. "Wake up," it seemed to taunt, "the publication awaits."

I know that since I've been working in the PR department for years it makes sense that I'd go and help to run the event, especially because Mr. Hall, regardless of being my boss, acts as if he can't wipe his own chin without the aid of three others, but that doesn't mean I was any more eager to go. Finally, at eight o'clock, I forced myself out of bed, put on a nice, professionally looking dress, and struggled to get a brush through my hair.

The whole ordeal was so very routine, ever since I was little. When your father is the Lord of Tarminster you learn how to appear in front of the public at a very young age, and he certainly made every effort to teach us how to behave. Every time we had to appear in public he'd wake me up a half hour earlier than necessary to make sure that I had the appropriate dress, hairstyle, and mannerism. One false slip of the tongue, even as a little girl, and I could've destroyed his reputation permanently, so he taught me what I was supposed to say and do when amongst the public. I must stand by my father's side and look pretty, innocent, and presentable. I would not open my mouth, because I couldn't afford to have an opinion. Occasionally he would nudge me and tell me to look more interested because of how stone faced I forced myself to stay during boring, public addresses, but by the age of fourteen I had basically mastered the charade that goes along with being in the public light.

Yet, I thought I had escaped all that when I got this job in publishing. Sure it was public relations, but I'm good with putting up with people. That was before I learnt that my boss was an idiot and my job entailed organizing the majority of his events, which meant that I would also have to handle the press during these functions. Corralling a group of merciless photographers isn't my idea of a fun day which is why I've been so heartlessly dreading this publication. It was going to be a media circus, and I would need at least three of me to handle them all.

But today was more different than I could've imagined. Today was magical. I can't get ahead of myself though. If I don't write this in the order in which it happened I feel like my thoughts will get too jumbled up in my head and I'll never be able to remember this properly in the future.

As I entered the event building I could already make out the press bombarding everyone with cameras. Even today I really hate my face in the papers, but I knew enough to smile and look as if I was enjoying myself. The press didn't really care about me anyway, I was just the PR staff. Who they really wanted was Harold Saxon who, thankfully, was already inside the building.

As I walked into the signing hall I was happy to see that no press had made it past the double doors. Breathing a sigh of relief, I located Mr. Hall as he chatted up a man I recognized from the world of politics. There were so many of what my father calls "Britain's elite," here, mostly meaning politicians. It was my job to make sure everyone was content, and Mr. Hall made it very clear that he would be the one to talk to Mr. Saxon. I agreed, but I couldn't help but give him some sidelong glances. He seemed honestly bored with the whole ordeal, which amused me. Sure, he knew just like me when to crack a smile and when to look intrigued, but I saw through his disguise as I was sure he saw through mine. When you're so adapted to faking interest you tend to pick up on what others do to improve your facade.

After about ten minutes of this I stood alone towards a corner of the room, sipping on a glass of water and thankful that everything was going according to plan. That was when he approached me and flashed the first genuine smile I saw him give all day.

"Horrible, this PR stuff is, simply horrible," he told me with a chuckle. His voice was soothing, and I felt as though I could trust him. I was so calmed in his presence in fact, that I just had to say what I was actually thinking, not what I was supposed to say. Sure, Mr. Hall didn't want me to talk to Mr. Saxon, but what damage could I actually do? I was the one who organized the entire event after all.

"You could talk," I said with a bit of a laugh, "at least you had a choice. You were the one who went and wrote a book! I'm here because I'm required to be here."

He let out a chuckle and any remaining nerves I had were soothed by his voice. It was almost hypnotic it was so calming.

"Yes, I suppose it is my fault," he said with a smile. "Never could stand the press, and now they've practically invited themselves over for dinner. Although you're not so innocent yourself, I mean, you're in public relations. Why would you thrust yourself in that world if you don't like the public?"

At this point I was very happy talking to him. I always hated politicians and all others who put themselves constantly into the public eye, but Harold Saxon was different. Harold Saxon was special. I felt like I could be myself around him, that I could trust him, and so for the first time in a long time I allowed myself to have an opinion around important strangers.

"Strange thing for a man who's running for Minster of Defense to say," I commented. "You must've known they'd come knocking at your door the second you started doing well." I smiled at my joke and continued. "I'm in public relations because I know how to deal with people, not because I like them. There's a difference, the major one being that I can barely live through these kinds of events."

This time he laughed, giving me a bigger smile and leading me over towards a more empty corner of the room. Even though I was supposed to be working and we were in a sea full of important people, I felt as though we were completely alone with all the time in the world.

"I have to admit I have a similar feeling about this whole unpleasant experience," he said with a sigh, "and I have learnt to ignore the press, or at least attempted to. I'm not going to let a group of reporters who don't know the concept of privacy stop me from running for office. I feel like I can actually make a difference, and I'm not going to let them stop me from achieving that."

I knew he was right. I felt it in from the bottom of my soul. Before today I never wanted anything to do with politics, but seeing this man, so real and down-to-earth, just standing here talking to me when everyone else told me to just be a pretty face, was an incredibly wonderful thing. He gave me hope that politics wasn't all a dirty game full of lies and deceit. I didn't even have time to agree with him before he gave another one of those beautiful genuine smiles and continued talking.

"I assume then you're in charge of everything going on here," he said tilting his head to the side a little.

"Actually no," I admitted, "I'm just assisting. I'm actually not supposed to be talking to you, that's my boss' job, he's right over-"

My words got caught in my throat and my heart sunk as I saw Mr. Hall walking up behind Mr. Saxon, not even attempting to hide how angry he was. With a small nod of his head I moved aside and he took my place in front of the politician.

"I'm sorry Mr. Hall," I muttered, trying to show just how annoyed I was. I knew I wasn't supposed to be talking to Harold Saxon in the first place, but that didn't mean I was going to leave without a fight. He was the first person who'd been nice to me the whole day.

"I'll get to you in a minute," he said under his breath. He then turned away from me and tried to smooth over what he thought was a bad situation.

"I'm terribly sorry for any trouble that might have been caused Mr. Saxon," Mr. Hall said, "see my assistant here-"

"Your assistant here is incredibly charming," Mr. Saxon said, cutting off Mr. Hall without a second thought, "and has been the only one around here to get me to laugh the entire day."

"Oh, well," my boss looked flustered and I couldn't help but smile. Clearly I wasn't as incompetent as he'd like people to believe.

"In fact," Mr. Saxon continued, "I'd love if she'd join me for dinner tomorrow night, that is if you aren't busy."

It took me a second to register what he was saying, and I was no less confused when I realized what had just happened. Did Harold Saxon as _me_ out on a date? It seemed surreal, after all we'd only just met each other, but I couldn't help but give a smile and feel myself blush.

"Su-sure," I stammered, still feeling caught off guard.

"Wonderful, tomorrow night at 7:30? I'll pick you up, here," he reached out his hand and gestured towards my phone. Still blushing slightly I passed it to him and he typed in his number, "text me your address Miss…"

"Cole," I replied, taking the phone back and slipping it in my pocket, "Lucy Cole."

"Well Miss Lucy Cole," he said giving me another grin and looking over his shoulder at the press now starting to file into the room, "I look forward to seeing you, now, if you'll excuse me," and with that he gave a small nod to Mr. Hall and a wink to me before walking towards the press and allowing them to photograph him with his book.

I barely remember anything else that happened during that publication today. Anytime I had a spare moment to myself all I could think about was Harold Saxon. We didn't get a chance to have another proper conversation throughout the rest of the event, but we made eye contact several times and he knew just what kind of comment to mouth or what kind of expression to pull to get me laughing.

When I finally drove myself home I felt as though I should call one of my friends. It seemed like what you were supposed to do in these situations, but I realized that none of them would ever believe me. Not only that, but I almost didn't want to share what happened at that media circus with anyone but Harold Saxon. It seemed like too special a moment to hand out to just anyone. So, instead, I've written it all down here so I can visit it again and again. I don't know how I'm going to sleep tonight or get through the day tomorrow with the anticipation of my dinner with the man himself. I suppose I'll have to try.

- Lucy


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you so much for the support on the story! Two days and I've already gotten some reviews and some hits, so that's really nice. Please read and review, I'd love to know that people are interested. I have some prewritten chapters so I don't fall behind, so hopefully I can update on a semi-regular schedule. The goal is to have a new chapter up in two to three days, so be sure to check back!_

March 25th, 2006

Dear Diary,

I just got back with my date with Harold Saxon, and I want to write all of it down while it's still fresh in my mind. It was wonderful to say the least, but I'm not going to say anymore until I've gotten an account written out.

Like I predicted yesterday there was no way I could concentrate. The good news is that today is a Saturday so I didn't have to go into work. Mostly, I spend the day returning e-mails and organizing my calendar and papers for upcoming events. Anything really to keep my mind off what was coming.

Finally at 6:15 I couldn't wait any longer. I shut off my computer and proceeded to shower, do my hair three different ways, and toss a flurry of dresses and skirts on the bed until I found my favorite: a beautiful red evening gown. For a split second I worried if it would be too fancy for the occasion, but it was dinner and I was going out with a person of decently high prestige. Something told me it was going to be lavish.

I felt ridiculous and childish as I practically sat next to my window, waiting for his car to pull up. I had only just met the man, but I was acting like a sixteen year old with her first, real boyfriend. There was just something about him that made my heart jump. I couldn't say that I loved him, after all I hadn't known him for more than a day, but there was definitely something there. Just like the man himself, there was something special.

Thank goodness he was a punctual man. At exactly 7:30 sharp his car pulled up outside my flat right at the address I had texted. It took quite a bit of willpower to not run down the stairs (especially because of the heels I was wearing, if I had tripped my face would've been about as red as my dress) and wait for him to ring the bell. Then I grabbed my bag and coat and walked down the stairs at a more normal, moderate pace, and only when I opened up the door did I realize that I had a smile on a mile wide.

"My dear Lucy Cole," he said as soon as he saw me, "don't you look amazing."

I fought so hard not to giggle when he said that, and my efforts transformed it into a bit of a half chuckle, though the rest was more of a snort. I looked down at my shoes, slightly embarrassed, but he didn't seem to care or notice.

"Shall we?" he asked and I nodded as I locked up the door and took his arm. He was such a gentleman, leading me to the car and opening the door for me, making sure I was comfortable and situated before he closed it and got in the driver's seat.

"So how are you feeling?" he asked. "Or are you still exhausted from that horrible publication yesterday?"

I let out another small laugh. It was so wonderful that he was leading me into conversation, because honestly I had no idea what to say. A silent car ride would've almost been unbearable, but without his help there would've been on way of avoiding it.

"I'm feeling much better now.." I said, having something else to say but trailing off instead. It was then that I realized I had no idea how to refer to him. Mr. Saxon seemed too formal, but I felt uncomfortable saying anything else.

"What the matter?" he asked, looking slightly over at me.

"I'm sorry, it's so stupid," I said looking at my nails. All I could think was that I screwed up worrying about details as what name to use.

"Lucy Cole," he said firmly, "nothing you say will ever be stupid."

It was then that I felt the same familiar calm wash over me when I talked to Harold Saxon. The feeling that I could say anything and everything around him and it would be okay.

"I just don't know what to call you," I said quietly.

He gave me a laughing grin and shook his head slightly.

"Is that it? Lucy you had me worried for a second!" he said, still smiling. "You can call me Harold if you're comfortable with that."

"How about Harry?" I ventured. "Harold sounds so official, so old."

"I like it," he said, "Harry it is."

A few minutes of idle conversation went by before we pulled up to his apartment's address. It was in a tall, red brick building that seemed to be clean and well kept. It wasn't what I was expecting a man like Harold Saxon to live in, but I got over it soon enough. After all, I was with him, and that's all that mattered.

He led me to the elevator and several floors later the doors opened to reveal a hallway of doors. All the way to left on the end was his apartment, and as he opened it and turned on the light I took in my surroundings. It wasn't as I expected a bachelor's apartment to look, so perfectly straight and neat, but that seemed to only make me happier. It would be nice to be with a man who was neat as opposed to me who always seemed to be in a constant state of disarray. Almost as if he read my mind, he commented on the room.

"I hope you don't expect it to be like this always, I did a bit of cleaning before you got here," he admitted, "although, I do appreciate things to be in their place.

I didn't see any table really set, and began to feel slightly confused. For a flash of a second I was worried that going home with a man I had only just met was a horrible idea, but all my qualms vanished when he led me through a door onto the small balcony outside the apartment. There, was a little table set for two, laid out perfectly. I gasped, it was gorgeous.

"I hope you don't mind eating outside," he said. "It was such a warm night and I figured we'd better not waste it."

All I could do was nod and smile, but it didn't matter. He seemed to be enjoying himself just as much as I was. He pulled my chair out for me, let me sit down, and then lit two little candles in the center of the table.

Even though the dinner happened less than two hours ago, I can't for the life of me remember what we actually ate. All I remember is the champagne and conversation, his incredibly charming voice, and feeling so warm and at ease.

"I hope you're enjoying yourself Lucy," he said about halfway through our meal.

"More than you can imagine," I said, and then instantly blushing. It seemed like such a stupid and juvenile thing to say, and I fought to keep the redness in my cheeks to a minimum as I muttered an apology.

"No need to apologize," he assured me. "I'm having a wonderful time too, and I just love talking to you."

I looked up at him again and into those beautiful brown eyes. It seemed that a smile was perpetually on my face, and the urge to giggle with glee like a schoolgirl was always so near.

"Thank you," I managed to get out before a small laugh escaped. All I could think was that he must've assumed I was drunk, even though I hadn't finished my first glass.

"So, Miss Lucy," he started. "You know so much about me I assume, from the book and the media and all that, but I feel at a disadvantage. I know nothing about you. Tell me about yourself."

I felt in that moment like I was being interviewed, and I would've dismissed the questions if it wasn't him and if he wasn't so right. Even though I wasn't directly involved with writing the book I read bits and pieces, as well as watch the news. He was all over it: Harold Saxon, the success story. What could I possibly say that would compare to that?

"Well," I said, trying to think of how to organize my life in a way that wasn't long or boring, "I went to boarding school, only the best for the daughter of Lord Cole I suppose, where I made most of my childhood friends. It was a prestigious school, a bit secluded though, I never really saw anyone outside the campus except on breaks. A lot of the students there were from good family too, so I suppose that's all they wanted us to associate with."

He nodded, as if he understood. It was like he was genuinely interesting, absorbing every word I said. Why did he care? I hadn't met anyone who cared before.

"I learnt Italian there, I'm bilingual, even now, although I'm out of practice," I admitted. "Haven't had enough time to exactly fly to Italy."

"Maybe one day I'll take you there," he said, "and you can speak Italian on the streets while we see everything Italy can throw at us."

I was taken aback by his direct and extravagant suggestion. Though _I_ had to constantly remind myself that I had only met him yesterday, before then I thought he remembered perfectly well. Though I'd be lying if I said that his offer didn't make my stomach flip and my cheeks turn red again, I wasn't sure for a second if he was serious. Yet, he looked at me, genuine as ever, with his chin resting lightly on one of his hands, and all I could think was _how I would love to see the world with Harold Saxon by my side._

"Why don't we get through dinner first?" I finally said and we shared a laugh, "but don't be surprised if I take you up on that offer in the future."

"I'm looking forward to it."

We spent the rest of the evening chatting and swapping stories. The level of comfort I was experiencing was unreal, and it seemed as though I was chatting with a childhood friend from years back as opposed to a man I had only spoken to for the first time yesterday. Finally, after the plates had long since been cleared and the champagne bottle was half empty, he offered to drive me home.

"Don't you-" I asked, finishing my sentence by gesturing to the liquor bottle. As much as I felt at ease around him I wasn't about to get into a car with a man who was still feeling the effects of the alcohol.

"I haven't taken a sip in at least twenty minutes Lucy," he said, brushing off the statement. "I'll be perfectly fine, and I swear to you you'll arrive home safely."

Just like that, I trusted him completely, with good reason as well, because just as he promised I stepped out of the car in front of my flat with not even a scratch on me.

"See," he said, taking my arm and leading me to the door, "perfectly safe."

When we arrived at the door and it was time to say goodbye, I felt a pang of sorrow. I didn't want my night with Harold Saxon to end, my perfect night with my perfect politician.

"Don't worry Lucy," he said, seeing the sadness in my eyes, "I'll be in touch, I promise. I haven't had this much fun in a long time."

It was right after he spoke that he leaned in and kissed me, our first kiss after our first, wonderful date, and I wrapped my arms around him as if to tell him that I was happy he leaned in. His lips tasted like champagne and his whole body was as warm as the spring night. Finally, when we broke apart, I unlocked the door and he swung it open.

"Until next time Lucy Cole," he said, his eyes full of promise. "Until next time."

- Lucy


	3. Chapter 3

_I'm so happy about how well this story is doing! Thank you to all everyone who's reading it, I really appreciate it! New chapter in two to three days, make sure to read and review. Enjoy!_

March 29th, 2006

Dear Diary,

It's taken an awful lot of willpower to not write a transcription of every phone conversation I've had with Harry, not matter how trivial, since that last date. Every time I consider it it makes me feel so immature and childish, but I can't help but love the feeling all the same. It seems like everything around me is just better now that I've found him, and I'm really fighting hard to not proclaim I'm in love. _Give it at least three weeks,_ I keep telling myself, _then you'll know for sure._

He did call the day after the date just to check in and say hello, as well as promise another outing soon although he wasn't sure when. I understood completely, after all we're both working adults with a lot of tasks to juggle, but I can't help but smile every time I watch tellie and he comes on, whether it be as a picture in a news story or an interview or a speech. All I can think is _that's my Harry, that's my lovely Harry._

Today started just like every other average Wednesday, and just before I got in my car to go to work my cell phone rang.

"What time is your lunch break today?" Harry asked the second I clicked it on, not even waiting for a hello from me.

"12:30," I answered, desperately trying to hide the excitement in my voice. Thank goodness he wasn't there with me, because my face was shamelessly portraying my emotions.

"Excellent," he replied, sounding as if he was thinking. "Drive to the little café next to your publications office, the one where most of the interviews are conducted. I'll meet you there. We can talk and grab some coffee."

It certainly was more casual than our exquisite dinner date on the balcony, but I was just as excited for it. After all, if Harry and I couldn't have fun without being extravagant then how were we supposed to get along from day to day?

"I'll see you there," I promised before hanging off the phone, letting out a little squeal of excitement and driving to the office.

The hours couldn't have passed more slowly as I scheduled, copied, met with clients, and listened to shouts and demands from Mr. Hall. On the Monday back to work the office was buzzing with news of my date with Harold Saxon. Interns and secretaries I didn't even know were coming up to me and begging for details. I didn't expect this high a fuss, but I tried to make them go away by saying I enjoyed myself and scurrying back to my office. It was Mr. Hall who demanded about as much as my close friends did, nervous that I had screwed up the company's relationship with Mr. Saxon, but all I could do was smile deliciously and assure Mr. Hall that Harry was looking upon us with favor.

Finally, the clock switched to 12:30 and I raced to my car, leaving only enough time to poke my head into Mr. Hall's office and inform him that I was taking my hour for lunch.

Only a five minute's drive separated me from the café, and as I pulled up I saw Harry's familiar black car in the lot, with the man himself leaning against the left side window. His face lit up when he saw me, and I parked my car next to him. Even though it was my car he still opened the door as soon as it unlocked and offered his arm as we walked inside.

"I'd say that we won't attract attention," he whispered, "but I'm afraid that would be a lie."

It was true. Heads instantly turned as we walked in, some muttering and pointing and others just looking shocked. Harry was accurate when he said that this café is used frequently for interviews, and I saw many of my coworkers look up to stare as we walked inside. There was a whole slew of emotions on their faces, ranging from happiness to support to jealousy to indifference, but I didn't care. I had my Harry.

After we paid for the coffee he led me back outside to the parking lot. He sipped our drinks and exchanged some small talk before we got to the two cars, putting our weight on the windows and just enjoying the other's company.

"I'm sorry about that," he said finally, gesturing to the café. "You don't seem like the person to enjoy all that kind of attention, despite what people may assume seeing as who your father is."

He was perfectly correct, and I couldn't help but show how overjoyed I was that he understood. The public spotlight was not by any means my favorite place to be, yet it was ironic that I willingly thrust myself into it to be with Harry. When I was with him I didn't seem to care who was staring.

"That's perfectly alright," I said, all smiles. "It's a small price to pay for being with you."

He looked at me, and then suddenly perked up as if a brilliant idea just entered his head.

"Get in the car," he told me and I obliged, climbing in the passenger side door and belting myself in just as he stepped on the gas.

"Where are we going?" I asked when we had pulled out of the parking lot and began to drive down the road.

"A few minutes away," he replied. "We're going to have a picnic."

About ten minutes away from where I work is a small park that children like to play in and old ladies like to feed the birds in. There was a small stretch of grass towards the middle, with a little lake dominating about half of it, and ducks floated lazily on the top of its surface. We didn't have anything but our coffee cups for our "picnic" as Harry put it, but it was a beautiful idea and I didn't care. We found a more secluded spot on the grass, underneath a big tree who's newly formed leaves let just the right amount of sunlight through, and I sat myself very close next to him so I could put my head on his shoulder as we watched the ducks swim in their straight little line.

"It's so peaceful here," I said after a few minutes of silence. "Thank you for taking me."

"I want to be somewhere special with you," he admitted. "Not just in the parking lot of a café, but a nice place. A charming place."

The park certainly was picturesque, and I couldn't think of a better way to spend my lunch break. We sat there, my head on his shoulder and our hands intertwined, for what seemed like forever before the beeping of a watch broke the silence.

"Would you look at that!" he exclaimed, "it's 1:20. Better drive you back to work now, don't want your boss complaining about you not being punctual."

"But what about my car?" I asked, "it's still in the lot near the café. I need it to drive home."

"Don't worry," he replied, "I'll pick you up and drive you to your car after work. Though I don't get out until six, is that good for you?"

I gave him a nod and it was decided. At 1:30 sharp I was outside the office building and when six o'clock rolled around, sure enough, Harry Saxon was waiting for me.

He seems to be all I think about lately, which is distracting but as distractions go it's certainly welcome. I don't know when we'll see each other personally again, but all I know is that when we do there's no doubt I'll enjoy myself.

- Lucy


	4. Chapter 4

_New chapter up in two to three days. This one's a little different, it has a different tone to it. Please read and review. I love all the support I'm getting for this story, so thank you._

April 5th, 2006

Dear Diary,

It's been exactly a week since my "picnic" in the park with Harry and a week and a half since I met him. We've gone on a few outings since then, little trips to go get coffee or lunch or just spend time together, and I wish I had the chance to write it all down. I've been so busy with work and sorting out my schedule that writing has been pushed to the back of my mind. I'm not going to write all the outings down, but it doesn't matter because I still know the feeling of the dates: happiness. I always feel so blissful and comfortable around him, and I find that sometimes the only thing that keeps me going is knowing that I'll see or talk to him again. He's so sweet, sometimes he calls me just to wish me goodnight and tell me he'd rather be out with me than _." The blank is always different, a meeting, a dinner, an interview, but it doesn't matter he says, he'd still rather be with me.

What makes today so noteworthy is that the first pictures of me and Harry together have begun to surface. I knew eventually the media was going to get a whiff of our relationship, but I didn't think it would be so soon. There's nothing definitive, just speculations about how we met and how serious we were, but nevertheless it caught me off guard. It was around 10:30 that one of my friends and coworkers walked into my office and said they had to show me something they found online. I agreed, and she brought me to a popular gossip blog that mostly covered starlets and heiresses, but somehow my picture wound up on the homepage. It was a photo of Harry and I from our picnic date, with my head rested on his shoulder, and the headline "Is Harold Saxon Involved?" was on top of it in big, black letters. I clicked on the article and scrolled down to see a few other pictures of the two of us, one from the café, one from the publication, and one of just the two of us walking down the street.

"Harold Saxon has been spotted numerous times within the past two weeks with the daughter of Lord Cole herself, Lucy Cole," the article stated. "Saxon and Cole were first seen together at the publication of his tell-all autobiography, _Kiss Me, Kill Me_, and have been reportedly inseparable ever since. Mr. Saxon writes in his book that he hasn't been 'very romantically involved' for most of his life, so Lucy Cole, we speculate, could be something special. Though no photographs have been taken of them at any of Mr. Saxon's public events, nor has either party commented on their exclusiveness, future plans, or relationship status, it's now a possibility that one of Britain's most eligible bachelors has got himself a girlfriend."

As I read, I felt a pang in my chest. It was like I was being stalked.

"I haven't even mentioned it fully to my parents yet!" I gasped, feeling betrayed. Sure, I had phoned up and told them that I had a date Harold Saxon, but I hadn't yet told them that I'd gone on a few more. My feelings for him were private, and it hurt that they'd been transformed just to give this website hits.

"I'm sorry Lucy," my friend said. "I figured you should know about it though, so you could be on the lookout."

I thanked her and once I was alone, I quickly phoned Harry and told him about the article. He said that one of his assistants had picked it up an hour ago, and he felt so terrible about the whole mess.

"I hope it hasn't caused you any trouble," he told me, "but I guess it's good this happened so early. With me private things are hard to keep private, especially because my book just recently came out and because I'm doing so well in the election. If this makes you uncomfortable-"

"No!" I assured him quickly, "it's okay. I was prepared to answer questions, and now's as good a time as ever to start."

Questions certainly flew. I was phoned at the office from three different tabloids all asking for exclusive interviews from Harold Saxon's alleged girlfriend. Not wanting to bother with them, politely refused and tried to keep my head straight. When I got home there was a message from Harry on the machine saying that he didn't want to bother me at work but I had the time could I meet him later for a two second interview with a certain magazine. He told me that he didn't want me to do anything that I wasn't comfortable with, and to call him so that we could discuss details, but he figured that since everyone was buzzing with rumors we might as well set the record straight. I phoned him, and within a few minutes I was driving towards the magazine's main office building and up several floors in an elevator to Harry drumming his fingers on the arm of a chair in front of a woman's desk. As soon as he spotted me, he smiled and gestured towards the chair next to him.

"Try to be polite," he whispered to me as I sat down, "and fight the urge to slap whoever's asking the questions."

I giggled and placed my arm next to his so our hands were touching.

"I'll try," I said, "but no promises."

I'm going to try and write down the interview to the best of my ability, just because I find the questions they asked both humorous and a little creepy. It's amazing how much information they want out of you right at the start, so they can bleed it all dry before the next magazine or newspaper can get to you. The whole time Harry had his hand either intertwined with mine or his arm draped around me, my head on his shoulder. I suppose he wanted to go for a healthy, loving image, especially because there were photographers there, and I didn't protest. I love being close to him, and I hoped that it was all for more than posterity.

The interviewer practically squealed when she saw the both of us, and it was very hard not to roll my eyes. She was an average sized woman in heels and a matching skirt and blazer. As she walked into the room she brushed some of her thick, brown hair out of her eyes and gave us a big smile.

"Just the couple I've been waiting to see!" she exclaimed as she sat down in front of us, notepad in hand. "This is all very exciting you'll have to excuse me. Can I make either of you more comfortable?

_Yes, you can call off the interview,_ I thought but kept my mouth shut. Harry on the other hand began to talk to her, assuring her that we were fine and nudging her away from the small talk so we could both leave. It amazed me how collected and charismatic he was, his voice fluid like water as he handled the situation like he'd done it a thousand times. I had to remind myself that he probably had done it a thousand times, but it still didn't stop the amazement. I couldn't help but be amazed by him.

"Alright, alright, down to business," the interviewer said finally, much to my relief. "Now, please bear with me but we've got to do some rumor busting first. Where did you two actually meet?"

"At my autobiography publishing," Harry said plainly and pulled me a little closer to him.

"I was helping to run it," I explained. "I work in publishing and my company was working on his book. We starting talking there."

"Alright then, and what was your first impression of, may I call you Harold?"

Harry nodded and looked off towards the window.

"What was your first impression of Harold?"

"Well he's funny," I laughed a little and then caught myself, careful to not look like an airhead when what I was saying was being documented. I had been in interviews before, but it had been a long time. The tricks were just coming back to me. "I liked talking to him right away. We had fun just talking together, and really, you couldn't ask for much more."

"He's quite a catch isn't it?" the reporter asked with a laugh. I feigned amusement, although I felt uncomfortable at the comment and I was sure Harry felt the same. Why couldn't this woman stop pretending they were friends?

"So you've only known each other for about two weeks then?"

"That's correct," Harry told her. He was keeping his answers very clipped, and if it wasn't for the layer of clam he was putting on his voice I'd say he was irritated. He was clearly bored, his fingers tapping the same four beat pattern on the arm rest and his other hand playing with my hair, out of sight from the interviewer.

"Sounds like love at first sight to me," the reporter pushed.

"You can call it what you want," he said, and I was worried he appeared too disinterested. The initial charisma was wearing off, and I could see the reporter catching on as well. I gave him a slight nudge and he looked at me with a little smile, as if he always had everything under control, "but I don't need to put a name on it. I already know what it is."

He spoke right to me, and the reporter let out a little sound that sounded a bit like a shriek and clapped her hands.

"Oh you both are just too cute!" she cried, furiously writing down notes. I wasn't even paying attention anymore, my stomach had knotted itself up and my heart was racing. The feelings should've hurt, but they didn't. They were those weird, love feelings that make you feel so strange, almost like pain, but in the very best way possible. I forced myself to assume it was for the interview, just for posterity, but I didn't want to believe it.

Then I finally decided it: I loved him. I loved him with all my heart and I didn't want to let him go. Who said two weeks was too short for me to know? In that moment it felt like I'd known him forever.

Nothing else really mattered to me after that. The questions I expected to be asked were answered, and after about an hour she let us go. He led me out the door to the parking lot, and when we were out of earshot of any staff members he burst out laughing.

"Did they, honestly, just, I'm sorry." He put his hand out and proceeded to laugh for about thirty more seconds before taking a breath and looking at me. It was only then that he realized I wasn't laughing.

"What?" he asked, looking at me quizzically, "don't you find it funny?"

"I don't know what, was funny.." I asked him slowly.

"The questions they were asking, the way they expected us to answer," he looked at me and I faked a smile to show that I was understanding, even though I wasn't. "Gosh I don't know what they were expected, I had to lie through my teeth for some of those questions."

My heart dropped. Which ones had he lied during? I wanted to ask, but stopped the words in my throat. I'd have to pretend I lied too, so it wouldn't seem like I was clinging to him.

Two weeks isn't long enough for love anyway.

"Oh, yeah," I said fake laughing, "and they just latch onto the answers too. Tell them what they want to hear and they eat out of your hand."

"Exactly," he said, running towards me and grabbing my two hards. "It's like you have this power over them."

"Yeah.." I replied, trailing off. The excitement he was showing was a little frightening, but it was Harry and I couldn't help but find it beautiful, just like the rest of him. After all, who doesn't like a man with ambition?

Then he kissed me. It was completely out of the blue, but he did. Our first, big, heart-stopping kiss since that first date. I wanted to enjoy it, I really did, but I was so preoccupied with what he had just said that it was hard to even think about this kiss.

The whole ride home it was the same thing: what parts of the interview were actually true? Was it all fabricated, or was it just one, small detail and I was blowing everything out of proportion. In any case, I can't sleep because of it, so I think I'm going to go read a book.

Gosh I hate interviews.

- Lucy


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5, here it is! Some of my own personal headcanons about Lucy are coming into the story now because we get so little of her childhood and background from the show. I hope you enjoy it, please read and review! New chapter in two days._

April 8th, 2006

Dear Diary,

I saw the article based around the interview today. It was a featured story within that weekly gossip magazine, and needless to say they sent me a copy. At first I didn't want to read it, disgusted with the whole idea of it and the pit in my stomach it created, but soon I felt myself scouring their clipped version of the interview, reading Harry responses. I didn't want to, it felt very creepy, but I wanted to see if he was obviously lying in a few. After not finding anything, I abandoned the magazine and went to make myself some breakfast, not even bothering to change out of my pajamas and brush my hair, when someone knocked on the door of the flat, and of course I went to answer the door looking no better than just rolling out of bed.

"Oh, hello," was the first thing that Harry said as he stood in the doorway. I hadn't seen him or properly talked to him since the interview, which made the pit in my stomach worse. I looked at him, not really sure what to think about why he was here or what he was thinking of my attire, and my brain was too cloudy from recently waking up for me to be embarrassed.

"Hi," I said, attempting to smooth back my hair. "Um, would you give me fifteen minutes?"

He looked at me and then gave a little smile which cracked the awkwardness of the situation quite a bit.

"Even in pajamas I think you look beautiful," he said rolling his eyes. "I don't really know what to say."

I let him in and fifteen minutes later I was dressed. He was drinking tea and reading the paper at my kitchen table as I walked in.

"I'm assuming you read the article," he said, not looking up from the paper as I went to make myself some coffee.

"Mhm," I muttered, not wanting to look at him. The air felt tense, and I didn't like it. I'd never felt this uncomfortable around him, but suddenly it was all hitting me at once.

"I hope it doesn't bug you," he continued. My back was turned to him as I stood over the coffee machine, making my movements slow so they would require more time. "I wouldn't want you to be uneasy."

"I'm not bothered," I replied. "It's fine."

Needless to say it wasn't fine. I remembered all the interviews I had done with my father, where he and my mother would have to sit there for hours, sometimes one interview after the other, just answering the same questions to five different news outlets. Half the time I wasn't even allowed in the room, and they would give me a book to read so I wouldn't make a sound.

"One word," he'd always tell me, "and you're sitting out on the sidewalk. You have a reputation of being a very mature, quiet child. Innocent and sweet. We don't to disrupt that do we?"

I would always answer with a shake of my head, and he would smile. On the occasion that I was allowed in the room and, rarely, asked a question, I had a very strict vocabulary to adhere to. Nothing but praise for my father and for Heaven and for the life I was blessed with. Anything else wouldn't have fit with the childlike innocence and amazement he had built up for me.

Why had I put myself back in the world of interviews and paparazzi? Isn't that what I was trying to run away from? By the end of the day my family would leave several messages on my answering machine, and my father would want to set up more meetings and PR events. They'd want to take my Harold Saxon away from me, and turn him into another bargaining chip. The perfect man for their sweet daughter, and that'd be it. I'd hit a wall. The romance would be gone, because the romance wouldn't matter.

But Harold Saxon didn't know that about me. He couldn't see my face, and he didn't know what was going through my head. All he heard was my assurance that I was feeling alright, even though, to me, it was painfully obvious I wasn't.

"Is that the only reason you came by?" I asked. "I mean you could've called me, it is pretty early after all."

He finally looked up at me, confused, and then glanced towards the clock.

"It's nine thirty," he told me, his expression showing nothing but puzzlement.

"I know," I said with a small laugh, feeling better, "but for a Saturday that's early."

"I'm sorry," he replied, cracking a small smile, "I suppose you'd call me a bit of a morning person. I don't really like to sleep."

There it was, the comfort settling over me, like a haze or warm water, slowly incasing me. It was that comfort and easiness that made me love him so much, even when I thought it would fail to return, somehow, it always came back.

"That's fine, but you still haven't answered my question. Did you really drive all the way here just to check up on me?"

"If that's alright," he told me, turning back to his tea. "I must admit I had more of a selfish reason as well, I wanted to see you, but checking up was a good way to get in the door wasn't it?"

He smiled and set down the newspaper he had been reading. Out of the corner of my eye I saw it was an opinion piece on the current status of the political race going on in England. He had been staring at in intently before, and I assumed he was mentioned in there somewhere. I guess if your future depends on the opinion of the people you're going to keep informed.' "Oh gosh," I said, rolling my eyes while trying hide my smile. Needless to say I failed miserably, but I got the feeling that though I wasn't an open book, Harry could read me.

"Since I'm here, and I've got nothing to do except shamelessly enjoy your company," he started, "why don't we go for a walk. Just talk a bit."

His personality seemed to change with every day. In the blink of an eye went from disinterested to complimenting me to changing the subject. I didn't understand him, and I knew that I should've felt like something wasn't right, but I didn't want to. Without really realizing it I accepted his offer and a few minutes later we were out the door, walking down the sidewalk and chatting aimlessly. I barely remember even getting to that place, and I don't remember what we said, I just remember walking as if I was in a haze and enjoying every minute of it. The _feeling_ I have from those moments is so clear in my head, blissful calm, but I don't remember how I got to that point.

I do remember him tapping though, the same beat I heard him tapping in the interview, and at one point I think I was tapping it along with him, rubbing my fingers together the way he did as we walked and I listened to him talk. The beat was so soothing, and it's stuck with me even now, hours after he left.

The only vivid memory I have is about ten minutes into our walk we were partially ambushed by about three photographers, all from different news sources, desperate to get a picture of the new couple. Camera flashes were everywhere, and I turned away at first because of how bright they were and how badly they were hurting my eyes, but then I felt his arm around my waist, gently pulling me forward.

"Smile for the cameras Lucy," he whispered to me, and I turned my head back around to face them, trusting him completely. "Just a smile and then it'll be all over."

"Just a smile," I remember saying, feeling myself falling, and I complied. He came through on his promise so quickly, shooing them away as soon as he had a picture, and I was relieved. Only my Harry could do that, make them go away so quickly. My father would've kept me there for minutes at a time.

Maybe I won't mind this press stuff so much, if Harry can yank me out of it so quickly.

Maybe I'll even begin to enjoy it.

- Lucy


	6. Chapter 6

_Once again thank you all for the lovely support on the story. Please, please, please read and review. Reviews keep me writing and I'd _love _to hear your thoughts and opinions on the story. New chapter up tomorrow, yes tomorrow, you read right! It'll be a bit of a different chapter, so be prepared. For now though, enjoy chapter six!_

April 12th, 2006

Dear Diary,

Today, early in the morning, I got a phone call from Harry. Just like before that interview, he calls at least once a day to check up on me or say hi, and he seems to be popping up at work to see me during my lunch break. A few friends made the suggestion that he was suffocating me, clinging too tightly and invading my personal space, but it only took a few seconds of conversation for them to realize that he wasn't crowding me. Harry could charm anyone, even my coworkers with the sourest disposition or the most doubt, and it didn't matter. Soon it ached to be away from him. Ever since my realization in that first interview that I did, in fact, love him, nothing seemed to matter anymore. My life was perfect, and it was all thanks to him.

Harry wasn't joking when he told me he was a morning person, and he has this habit of calling me before I wake up for work. Seven o'clock, six thirty at the very earliest, and I've told him every time I wake up at eight but he still doesn't really understand. Sometimes I doubt that he even has a clock in his apartment. Today was off the charts though, my phone rang at exactly 5:13 in the morning and I knew that there was only one person who'd be ringing me at this hour. Begrudgingly, I picked it up, and after explaining yet again that he really shouldn't call me this early, he apologized and said that he just found out he needs to make a "crucial" speech today at four in front of some important business or something, and it was important that I be there. I was surprised to say the least, aside from a few questions by newspapers about how I thought Harry's campaign was going I was never involved in his politics. They were something completely separate from our relationship, and he's never asked me to be involved before. I told him I'd call him back later with an answer, and with my mind still reeling from the phone call I fell back asleep and stayed that way until my alarm work me up.

It wasn't like I didn't _want_ to go to the speech, because though I expected I wouldn't be interested in the issues being addressed it was still nice to be around him and support him, it's just that it was so out of the blue. His tone of voice on the phone especially, it sounded almost like urgency, like he was nervous, even though at this point I didn't think Harold Saxon _could_ be shaken. I did manage to stare at the phone for a good ten minutes, pondering over my response, before I ignored it and drove myself work.

"I think he just wants you to support him," a coworker told me. It was on my mind all day, and she saw my preoccupation. Her name is Jill, and she's only been here a few months, but we've become fast friends. "He's seems to be smitten with you, just look at how much time you spend together!"

I knew she was right, we did spend an incredible amount of time together. He just made me so blissful, like I couldn't feel anything but safe around him.

"If anything else he wants to show you off," Jill continued, "in which case you should feel flattered. It means he loves you enough to want to introduce you to his friends and colleagues, and that is a very good thing."

I nodded, and decided that she was right. Though he hadn't outright told me, Harold Saxon had to love me right? Otherwise why would he be hanging around me so much? I heard a few people whisper behind my back that he clung onto me to keep me happy while he used me to bolster his image, but what did they know? They'd probably never even met him.

During my lunch break that day I gave him a phone call and told him I'd meet him if I could get my boss to let me off work early. He told me not to worry about it, and that he'd pick me up at 3:30 so we could go together. I was confused, but agreed, hanging up the phone and taking my break without a second thought. When I got back, Mr. Hall walked into my office and informed me he was letting me off at 3:30, and then just left. I'd never seen Mr. Hall give anyone a break off work without a fight, and I couldn't help but be momentarily stunned. Maybe Harry talked to him while I was away, but didn't Harry know I could speak for myself? It just seemed a little off.

Yet, I pushed the thought from my mind with the large amount of work that lay in front of me, and drudged my way through the day until my computer alarm beeped me to remind me that it was time to get picked up for the speech. Just like he promised, Harry was outside waiting for me, and we drove in practical silence, him drumming the same pattern on the steering wheel that I've heard multiple times before. I felt myself begin to tap it with him. The rhythm was comforting, and before long I was tapping without thinking about it. Finally, I couldn't stand the lack of conversation.

"Are you nervous?" I inquired, and he turned his head to me with a bit of surprise, as if he forgot I was even sitting next to him.

"I guess a little," he muttered, and then turned back to look at the road, mumbling a few things to himself that I couldn't make out. After that I didn't bother to start conversation, and we drove the rest of the way without another word.

When we arrived there were already press swarming the area. Photographers flashed their cameras as the car pulled up, and a few people I barely recognized from Harry's campaign and PR were already going to open the doors. Many were on cell phones, shouting twelve things at once, and the whole place was so hectic I felt a little light headed. With his calm, signature smile on, Harry went to open my passenger side door and offered his arm, which I gladly took to steady myself. The familiar sensation of being bombard with flash bulbs began, and I tried to smile without making it obvious I felt sick to my stomach.

"Please Harry," I muttered after a minute, "I really need to sit down."

He agreed, pulling me away from the reporters and showing me to a row of chairs up front where a lot of his staff members and campaign officials were already sitting.

"This is Katherine," he said, introducing me to one of the loudest women of the group, who was yelling into a headset, "head of my PR. She'll tell you everything you need to know."

He then swept me up in a hug and kissed me so suddenly I didn't know how to react at first, but after a few seconds of being in his arms I melted, feeling so safe and warm, and kissed him back eagerly.

"I'll miss you until I get back," he said after he let me go, smiling widely. "Wish me luck."

I smiled in return and agreed. He looked so energetic, like he was full of fire and lightning, and his eyes were glistening with anticipation. This was the ambitious Harry I loved, this was the man I'd wanted to see for days.

The second he left Katherine took one look at me and pointed to a seat towards the middle of the row. She was clearly annoyed at having to deal with me, and in an instant I realized I disliked her even more, but I was his girlfriend and she had to be nice, so with a forced smile she gave me my instructions.

"Sit down and look innocent okay? Nice and cute. Don't answer any questions and applaud with everyone else. Think you can manage?"

"I'll be fine," I returned curtly, "I've been at speeches before."

This shut Katherine up. She had clearly forgotten who I was and what my background was. While I was a kid I had to attend all my fathers speeches, and though they were dreadful and I hated the memories I knew how these things worked. Smugly, I took my seat and crossed my legs, happy that the reporters were more interested in Harry than me.

I don't really remember all that much of Harry's speech. It was the same jumble of politics they all say, but he just did it better than all his opponents. The audience of reporters, supporters, and critics alike ate up his words like candy, and about halfway through I began to seem very relaxed, the familiar haze falling over my body, and in that time I became the picture of a perfect, supportive girlfriend. I smiled throughout the speech, laughing at every joke and clapping at all the right times, to the point where Katherine apologized to me afterward for being so cross. That did make me quite smug as well, and it felt good to prove her wrong.

After he had finally navigated his way through the swarm of post-event press, Harry found me towards the back and gave me another hug.

"You were brilliant," I said with a huge grin, wanting him to know that I both loved and supported him, even if I didn't remember anything that he said, "they loved you."

"That's nice for them," he said, "but I want to know what you think."

I was taken aback by his question. First he wanted me to come out to his speech and now he wanted my opinion on it? He'd never asked me anything like this in the past, and a part of me took this as a sign that he was really in love with me.

"I loved you too," I finally said, "I thought you were amazing."

He gave me another kiss and I could feel the flashbulbs encasing us as he did. I knew in an instant we'd make the cover of a few magazines or papers, but it was just a lucky shot I suppose. We were all the way at the back of the crowd, there's no way Harry knew a mob of reporters would catch us right at that moment.

The ride home was the complete polar opposite from the ride to the speech. Harry was chipper and conversational, talking about how well the thought things went and how he was sure this was going to knock him up a few points the race. I nodded my head and listened to his soothing voice, agreeing occasionally and happy that we were talking again. I hate being distant from him, but every time I think he's gone we manage to pull together again at the last second. Maybe that means we can stand the test of time, that we can work out any issues we have and move on from them. I surely hope so, I feel like I'd be devastated without him.

When he pulled up next to my flat he, as always, opened the door for me and let me to the front steps.

"I'm very happy that you could come today," he told me. "Today was more of a success than I could've ever imagined. Maybe you're my good luck charm."

I blushed and looked up at him into those beautiful eyes. I never believed in luck, but I never believed in anything like fate either, and then I met him. In that moment I wanted to be his good luck charm so badly, so he would keep me with him and hold him tight. Harold Saxon was the person I had been looking for my whole life, and I didn't want to let him go.

"Maybe I am," I said, brushing back a stray piece of hair that fell a little out of place. "I don't really mind."

Before I realized what I was doing I leaned in and gave him a small kiss. He'd always been the one to initiate kisses before, and I think he was a little caught off guard when I leaned out again.

"Sweet," he said quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and then giving a half smile, "very sweet."

I feel like I'm practically floating on air. It's beginning to hurt when I'm not around him anymore, like I need to see him or I won't be able to function properly throughout the day. Talking to him has become as necessary as eating breakfast, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

- Lucy


	7. Chapter 7

_This chapter's a bit different. It's like a montage, meant to show the passage of time in Lucy's life since her relationship with the Master actually lasted about two years. This chapter shows a few months of their life very briefly, before any major plot points occur. There are going to be a few of these sprinkled throughout the story, during transition points in her life, so I hope you don't mind that it's a little short. I'm also putting this chapter up today instead of tomorrow because I'm going to not post anything for a few days. I'm on vacation, and that means no Internet connection! I will return though, don't worry, so I hope this holds all of you over while I'm gone. Please, as always, read and review and make sure to check back. Enjoy!_

April 17th, 2006

Dear Diary,

Time feels like it's passing a different way with every different hour. Work seems painfully long and my time with Harry seems to be growing shorter and shorter. Every time I see him it's never enough time, and one of us always has to rush off. I'm becoming more involved in his politics, and more and more magazines and papers are asking me for interviews. It's not something I'm very happy about, but as long as I'm with him I doubt anything could go wrong. With him I'm always so safe.

- Lucy

April 24th, 2006

Dear Diary,

Today was another PR day, and I must've had my picture snapped one hundred times. I'm still not completely thrilled with the idea, but I know that he needs me to cooperate. He never makes me stay longer than necessary though, and if I tug on his sleeve hard enough he knows to yank me away. We've gone on a few dates since the last one I thoroughly wrote out, but I never seem to find any time to write them down. My life has become a whirlwind of work, PR events, and time with Harold Saxon, but as far as whirlwinds go they're the most lovely kind imaginable.

Our dates aren't so private anymore, but a few times we're able to sneak away. I never know how he's truly feeling when he's in front of a camera, but every time we're alone I just _know _he's genuine. It was the same with today. Exactly a month after I first met him, can you imagine? It seems like so much longer. The press wanted a bit of us, but we were able to steal two glorious hours for ourselves and they were by far the best two of the day. With him, everything's perfect.

May 5th, 2006

Dear Diary,

Not much to report, although I haven't been keeping diary entries nearly as much as I did before. I've just been so busy. Work all day and spending evenings with Harry, by the time I get home all I want to do is fall asleep and wait for the next day. Not to mention he still has a habit of calling me too early every once in a while. Eight o'clock, it's not that hard to learn! No matter, no one's one hundred percent ideal. I'll gladly take this negative in return for everything else he's added to my life.

- Lucy

May 13th, 2006

Oh my, I really am such a lazy writer nowadays. I used to be so good at this! More of the same I suppose, everything's wonderful. My parents have began to call me up and ask for opportunities to meet with Harry, but I'm still rather hesitant. It's been less than two months since I met him, and my father's rather.. business attitude towards our whole relationship could throw Harry off entirely. I don't even want to think of what he'd want to discuss. Things at work have calmed down substantially. No one's asking me questions anymore, which is a relief.

He's got this practice of tapping his fingers in the same four beat rhythm wherever he goes, and it only dawned on me today that I don't notice it anymore. Often I feel myself tapping along with him, and it's gotten to be a very bad habit. Oh well, as far as bad habits go I'll take this one; it seems rather harmless. Not to mention I just feel so comfortable every time he does it, so cozy and quiet in my mind. It's like he knows just what to do to put my whole body and all my thoughts at ease. He's just, amazing.

- Lucy

May 22nd, 2006

Dear Diary,

I really should write something, but I have nothing to report that hasn't already been said. More of the same then I suppose. More of my mundane life and him making it better. More of me falling for him with every passing word. More photographers, more interviews, more speeches, and more phone calls from my parents. I don't know how long I'll be able to properly hold them off. I managed six months with my previous boyfriend, and coming up this week I've been with Harry for two. Except Harry is different, so this is going to be harder.

I can't believe it's only been two months. It certainly seems like longer, but that's just how you feel when you're in love I guess. He's promised me a special dinner, free of press, for it. I sincerely hope he can manage an entire evening without us being ambushed.

- Lucy

June 14th, 2006

Dear Diary,

My friends are saying they see a change in me, although I don't think it's a bad thing. They say I'm more confident and I seem to carry myself with more authority. I don't see it, but I'd be lying if I said that I didn't feel more important. Harry makes me feel that way about myself, and no one's been able to do that before.

- Lucy

July 18th, 2006

Dear Diary,

I've almost considered not writing anymore, because all my diary entries look the same. It's not like I have anything new to write down, and I don't remember many specific details when I get home anyway. That was always me though, "never especially bright, never could remember much of anything." It's a wonder I even learnt Italian, though that might have to do with my parent insisting they get their money's worth on my special schooling. I didn't ask to got to such a prestigious school, it was their idea!

- Lucy

August 3rd, 2006

Dear Diary,

Got another phone call today from my parents. I don't know how long I can keep this up, and now Harry's beginning to ask questions. Easy for him to say, his parents are dead. He doesn't have to worry about them potentially screwing up his relationships. I've stopped ignoring the calls now, because they're getting worried. I've resorted to excuses, and it seems to be doing okay, for now at least. I really hope they let this go.

- Lucy


End file.
